The Dentists' Daughter
by Musicangel913
Summary: The events of "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" from Hermione's POV. The incomparable J.K. Rowling owns everything - I just play. All reviews are read & appreciated. Enjoy!
1. Special

Hermione Granger lay on her stomach in the grass under her favorite oak tree, her legs swinging lazily behind her. She was deeply immersed in the large book that lay in front of her. Reading was her favorite pastime – she loved the endless stores of knowledge and the thrilling tales packed between leather bindings, the smell of fresh ink upon new pages, and so the little girl devoured every book she could get her hands on. As such, Hermione's understanding of most things far outstripped that of her peers, many of whom teased her and called her a know-it-all. This had bothered Hermione at first – she vividly recalled the first time she'd come home in tears:

_"Mummy," she sobbed, "Why are the other children so mean? They call me…so many…horrible…names!" She hiccupped and began to cry again, unable to keep her composure any longer._

_"There, there," her mother soothed. "Don't cry, dear."_

_"But…but it's all true," Hermione sniffed._

_"Hermione Jean!" her mother said sternly, "Don't you ever, _ever_ believe that, not for one second! It's not true at all. You hold your head up high and be proud of who you are."_

_"I don't like being different," Hermione mumbled._

_"Oh, Hermione, there's nothing wrong with being different," her mother said with a smile. "Everyone's different, in their own way. Being different is what makes you, you – if you were like everyone else, you'd be quite boring, don't you think? Being different is what makes us special."_

_"I'm…special?" the little girl asked, her tears subsiding a bit._

_"Very special, and don't you ever forget that. Now, dry your eyes and go play. Don't ever change who you are just because of some jealous nobodies at school." Hermione giggled, and her mother gave her a squeeze. "That's my girl."_

Hermione had taken her mother's words to heart and learned to ignore her classmates and their bitter taunts. It had been a little harder since Claire moved away – Claire was smart too, she understood, but Hermione held her head high. Nobody was going to keep her from her love of learning.

Hermione never fought back with words – she was better than that, and besides, what use were words if your tormentors didn't understand them? – but a few unexplained incidents left her feeling oddly satisfied. For instance, there was the time Johnny Miller's pencil kept rolling away from his hands every time he made to grab it, leaving him utterly frustrated for nearly ten minutes. Suzy Matthews found herself inexplicably tethered to her desk by her shoelaces, and Davy Wilson had opened one of his favorite comics to find all the words reversed. All of these instances occurred right after the student in question had said something particularly mean to Hermione, and while she was loathe to admit it – Hermione _never_ broke the rules or did anything at all that might get her into trouble – she knew that she had somehow made all of those things happen. At least it meant she could hold her own, in some small way. She did feel a little bad about the comic – after all, it was still a book, albeit a silly one – but Davy's words that day had stung particularly badly, so she didn't feel _too_ bad.

Hermione sighed contentedly as she turned the page. She would be moving up to the secondary school in the fall, which was much larger than her primary school. Perhaps her luck would change in September.

Indeed, Hermione's luck would change in September, in ways she'd never dreamed.

"Hermione," her mother called from the back door. "Could you please come inside a minute? There's someone here I think you'll want to meet."

Hermione perked up her ears at her mother's words. Someone was here to meet _her?_ But _who?_ None of the neighborhood houses were for sale, so it couldn't be a new neighbor. All school correspondence came via the post, so it wasn't anything about that either. Confused but curious, Hermione closed her book and quickly made her way into the sitting room.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were already seated on the couch. Across from them sat a strict-looking woman wearing a long traveling cloak over an old-fashioned, floor-length dress, her dark hair pulled neatly back into a tight bun. The stern expression on the woman's face told Hermione that this was not someone to cross, and the little girl was immediately aware of her crooked blouse and the faint grass stains on her knees. Her eyes, however, which were hidden behind square spectacles, seemed kind enough, so Hermione quietly settled herself in an empty armchair and eagerly awaited whatever her visitor had to say.

"Hermione Granger?" the woman asked. Hermione nodded. "My name is Professor McGonagall." Aha! Hermione should have known from the woman's looks and mannerisms that she was a teacher. She sat up a little straighter.

"Miss Granger, there is a world of which you yet know nothing but to which you will soon belong. What do you think, Miss Granger, of magic?"

"Well," Hermione began slowly, not quite sure how to answer this odd question, "I know it appears quite often in fairy tales, but outside of such things I'm sure it doesn't exist." Professor McGonagall nodded but did not respond. Instead, she reached in her cloak and pulled from it a long, slender piece of wood, which she promptly pointed at the tea tray resting on the coffee table. Before Hermione's eyes, the tray rose, slowly but surely, off the table and floated – there was no other word for it – over to the little girl. As if that weren't enough, the teapot then levitated off the tray and poured some of its contents into a cup.

"Sugar?" asked Professor McGonagall, as if this sort of thing happened every day.

"Two, please," Hermione managed to squeak. Mimicking the teapot, the sugar bowl moved of its own accord and added the requested amount of sugar to the teacup, which in turn presented itself to Hermione. Professor McGonagall directed the tea tray back to the table with her wand – for, unbelievable as it seemed, Hermione was sure now that that's what the piece of wood was – and refilled the Grangers' cups before conjuring a plate of biscuits from nowhere.

"Would you like to rethink your answer to my question, Miss Granger?" the professor asked, the hint of a smile in her voice. Hermione found she had quite lost the use of her voice, so she merely nodded, her hands trembling a little as she sipped her tea.

"The world I mentioned, Miss Granger, is the wizarding world. I have already been explaining some things to your parents, but I'm sure they'll forgive me if I repeat a little of it for your benefit." She paused. "Would I be correct in saying that you have occasionally made things happen but have found no suitable explanation as to how?"

Hermione's thoughts went immediately to the "payback" of her classmates, as well as a few other harmless instances at home, and she nodded again.

"Of course. Magic played a role in all those instances. You, Miss Granger, are a witch."

Hermione sat thunderstruck, her eyes wide. She was a witch?

"But…but…" she couldn't seem to think of how to word her retort properly. "But witches are bad!" she finally blurted out, then immediately flushed scarlet.

"In fairy tales, yes," agreed Professor McGonagall, "but in the wizarding world, largely not. 'Witch' is merely the female counterpart of 'wizard'. Now, you may think my statement incredibly unlikely, but I assure you there has been no mistake. You are, indeed, a witch."

"So…are Mum and Dad a witch and wizard too?" Hermione asked.

"No. Your parents are Muggles – non-magic folk."

"Does that matter?"

"Certainly not. There are plenty of Muggle-born students at Hogwarts, and they manage just fine."

"Hogwarts? What is Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is where most of Britain's wizard children are educated, just as you yourself will be, if you choose to accept the invitation." At these words, Professor McGonagall reached inside her cloak again, this time removing an envelope made of thick parchment, which she passed to Hermione. Hermione opened the envelope carefully – she didn't want to appear _too_ eager, after all – and extracted a letter, which read as thus:

_Hogwarts School  
of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress_

Hermione reread the letter several times, then surreptitiously pinched herself, just to make sure she was awake. The sharp pain in her arm told her she wasn't dreaming – this was _real!_

"You mean…I really get to…go to Hogwarts?" she stared at Professor McGonagall in wonder. It was her mother, however, who spoke.

"Yes, dear," she said. "You do. Professor McGonagall explained it all to us before we called you in. We were a bit surprised, naturally, but we're extremely proud of you, and if you'd like to go, you may."

"Of course I would!" Hermione said. She turned back to Professor McGonagall. "What does 'we await your owl' mean? What sorts of things do students learn at Hogwarts? Where will I get my things? How many other students are there? How-"

"Enough for now," Professor McGonagall said. "You will know all about Hogwarts in due time. Don't worry about the owl – witches and wizards use owls to deliver their post, but as you're a Muggle-born, a personal house call was necessary to explain everything to you." She turned to Mr. and Mrs. Granger. "And now, I must be returning to Hogwarts. Thank you for your hospitality. If you have any questions, please do contact us – we've provided an address for all the Muggle-borns on the information sheet in the letter. Miss Granger, I shall see you at Hogwarts on the first of September." Professor McGonagall nodded to the three Grangers, then, to their astonishment, turned on the spot and vanished before their eyes.

"Oh, Mum, Dad, I don't even know what to think!" Hermione cried, her eyes shining. "I'm so surprised but ever so pleased!"

"We're proud of you, Hermione," her father said, giving her a smile. "Our little girl, a witch! Who'd have thought it?"

Hermione sat down in her chair, drinking more of her tea as she perused the contents of the parchment envelope again and again. Hogwarts – she was really going to Hogwarts! Of all the extraordinary things that had happened to Hermione thus far, this one definitely stood out as something truly special.


	2. The Other Side of London

The information Professor McGonagall had given Hermione told her that she needed to make her way to a place called The Leaky Cauldron in London, beyond which she would find everything she needed on her supplies list. She was all for setting off immediately, but to her disappointment, her parents said that a trip to London required some advance planning. They set their trip for the following Friday, and Hermione spent the intervening time memorizing her booklist and attempting to finish her book, although she was so distracted that this proved very difficult indeed.

When Friday finally arrived, Hermione woke very early. She was ready to leave long before her parents were even awake, and she bounced anxiously around the house, unable to sit still. At long last, the Grangers got into their car and set off. They parked outside the city and took the train to a stop in the very heart of London. Following the directions they'd been given, the Grangers soon found themselves standing outside a nondescript, almost shabby-looking pub. A sign bearing the legend "The Leaky Cauldron" swung over their heads. At first, Hermione wasn't sure they'd come to the right place – Professor McGonagall had said the Leaky Cauldron was very famous, and Hermione had expected it to be much nicer – but as she stared at the pub, Hermione became aware of the fact that she seemed to be the only one doing so. The other passersby – and they were numerous, this being central London – saw the bookstore to the pub's right, and the record shop to its left, but, miraculous though it was, acted as though they couldn't see the tiny inn at all. With a funny feeling inside that told her the Muggles really _couldn't_ see the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione took a deep breath and entered the pub.

"Afternoon, miss," came a voice from the bar. Hermione looked over and saw that the voice belonged to a toothless, bald gentleman who was busy pouring drinks behind the bar. "How can I help you?" Hermione looked at her mother, who nodded, encouraging her to speak. Hermione suspected her parents were too overwhelmed to say anything just yet.

"I'm supposed to be buying my things for Hogwarts?" It definitely came out sounding more like a question than a response.

"Ah, of course!" the barman replied. "Muggle-born, then?" Hermione nodded, shocked.

"How…how did you know?"

"Well, begging your pardon, miss, but those with magic folk in their families already know how to get to Diagon Alley." He paused, noting Hermione's downcast look, then continued, "But not to worry, miss, there's loads of other Muggle-borns at Hogwarts. I'm Muggle-born myself. Right this way, I'll show you the entrance." Encouraged by his words, Hermione followed him through a door she'd previously missed at the back of the pub. She and her parents found themselves facing a solid brick wall in a small courtyard. The only object in the courtyard was a rubbish bin.

"Now," said the barman, removing his wand from beneath his long robes, "All you have to do is tap this here brick" – he indicated the brick third from the left of the trash can – "and you're in." He tapped the aforementioned brick with his wand, and, to Hermione's surprise, the wall melted away to form an entranceway, beyond which lay a long, cobbled street full of shops.

"Thank you!" she said breathlessly. "I appreciate your help, Mr…"

"Tom," the barman returned. "Call me Tom." He offered a hand, which Hermione shook.

"Hermione Granger," she responded. "And these are my parents."

"A genuine pleasure to meet you all," Tom said. "I hope we'll meet again soon." He bowed to the three Grangers and returned to his pub, leaving the three Grangers to make their way into the famous shopping district. Hermione glanced back to see a handsome, wrought-iron archway proudly spelling out "Diagon Alley" before the entrance once more shrank back into a solid wall. The street's name's resemblance to "diagonally" did not escape her, and she was quite pleased to see that the street did, in fact, lead away from them in a diagonal fashion. _Very clever,_ she thought. _I've only just gotten here, and I'm liking it already._

There were so many incredible things to look at in Diagon Alley that Hermione didn't know which way to turn first. The shop windows displayed everything from handsome feather quills and glass phials to robes and books as large as paving stones. The shoppers were just as interesting, even if Hermione didn't understand half of what they were saying – she kept hearing words like "Galleon," "Transfiguration," and "Quidditch."

The building at the far end of the street was, by necessity, their first stop. "Gringotts Wizarding Bank" shone brightly in foot-high letters on the snow-white marble edifice, and it was one of the largest structures Hermione had ever seen. The information from Hogwarts had explained that goblins ran Gringotts, but that still didn't prepare Hermione for the sight awaiting her at the bank's doors. She had to try hard not to jump at her first glimpse of the goblins, who were shorter than her but looked very clever and had long hands and feet. _These goblins are like Professor McGonagall – not to be crossed,_ thought Hermione, and she was indeed right. A poem inscribed on the building's doors warned potential thieves in no uncertain terms that they would pay most dearly for their actions if they dared attempt to rob the bank. Feeling slightly skittish, Hermione followed her parents into the bank's main hall, where dozens of goblins sat helping clients behind a long counter. The Grangers joined a short queue and soon made their way to the counter, where Mr. Granger immediately began inquiring about changing Muggle money. A short time later, the Grangers left Gringotts with a small bag full of strange coins, which Hermione was told were called Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.

"Where would you like to go first, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked her daughter. Hermione consulted her shopping list, then looked around.

"Well…there's a robes shop right there, why not just work our way back up the alley?" Her parents nodded, and they all made their way into a shop called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"Hello dear, Hogwarts?" a squat witch in deep purple robes greeted Hermione as she stepped inside. The little girl nodded. "Right this way, my dear," the witch said. "I'm Madam Malkin. Up on this stool, if you please." She left the room for a moment, and Hermione stepped onto the stool and looked around, admiring the dozens of racks of robes in every color and pattern that lay before her. Madam Malkin returned shortly with a pile of black fabric in her arms. She slipped one of the robes over Hermione's head and began to pin it to the right length, chatting amiably as she did so. A surprisingly short time later, the witch said, "There you are, dear!" removed the robes, and tapped them with her wand. Instantly, the pins vanished and the robes hemmed themselves. Another tap, and the remaining sets of robes matched themselves to their partner, and a final tap folded the robes and wrapped them neatly in packaging. Deciding she'd better start learning to expect crazy things like this if she were going to stay in the Wizarding world, Hermione paid for her robes, thanked Madam Malkin, and left the shop.

Diagon Alley's other shops proved just as interesting as Madam Malkin's. They visited the apothecary, a strange shop full of various items used in potion making, to buy scales and some basic ingredients. They purchased a telescope, a cauldron, parchment, quills, and ink, and they stopped to enjoy some highly delicious ice cream sundaes at a place called Florean Fortescue's. Finally, there were only two things left on Hermione's list: her spellbooks and her wand.

The sight that awaited Hermione in Flourish and Blott's took her breath away. Every available inch of wall space was lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with books on every subject imaginable. There were books as large as tables, others that were so small they could have fit easily in Hermione's palm, and every size in between. Neat letters on the glossy surfaces spelled titles in languages Hermione didn't understand, and the amazing smell of ink and leather was enough to make her swoon.

"May I help you?" asked an attendant.

"Yes, please, I'm starting at Hogwarts," Hermione said, still gazing with wonder at the marvelous scene before her. She consulted her book list and read off the titles. The attendant wound his way through the shop, lifting several large, leather-bound volumes from their shelves as Hermione spoke.

"Anything else?" he asked as he placed the books on the counter.

"Well," Hermione considered, "I was wondering if you had any recommendations of books I might read to learn a bit more about the Wizarding world – I'm Muggle-born, you see, and I'm quite anxious to learn all I can before I go off to Hogwarts." The wizard nodded thoughtfully.

"In that case, try these," he said, pulling a few more books off a shelf labeled "Wizarding History". "They should fill you in a good bit about the current Wizarding world. _Hogwarts, A History_ is a good bet as well, tells you all about the history of the school." He removed an enormous black tome from the shelf and added it to the substantial pile. "Will that be all, then?" Mr. Granger made the purchase, and they left the shop laden with several heavy bags, making their way across the street to a very old-looking store bearing the words "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C." over its doorway.

This last establishment was small and nearly empty, with a small, spindly chair as its only furnishing. Like Flourish and Blott's, the walls of Ollivander's were also covered with shelves, but these shelves were laden with small, thin boxes, which Hermione assumed contained wands. When they entered the shop, one of these boxes shook a little and emitted a small shower of sparks, at which Hermione heard someone say, "Well, well, well, then…" The speaker was an older man she had not noticed before. He had the look of an immensely knowledgeable person, and he was eyeing Hermione with great interest.

"Whom have I the pleasure of addressing?" he asked.

"Hermione Granger," she returned, a little intimidated by the man's piercing gaze. To her relief, he turned his attentions to her parents, who introduced themselves in turn.

"Garrick Ollivander," he said with a bow, then turned to the shelves and removed the very same box that had wiggled when they came in. He opened it to reveal a wand of a soft brown color, which he passed to Hermione. "Give it a wave, if you please, Miss Granger," he said. Hermione did so, and a fountain of multi-colored sparks shot out of the wand's end and bounced around the room like a fireworks display.

"Splendid!" cried Mr. Ollivander. "Yes, that's the one!" He took the wand from Hermione and nestled it back in its box.

"How did you know, sir?" Hermione asked, astounded. "I mean, there must be thousands of wands in here!"

"Indeed, Miss Granger, there are many thousands of wands in my shop. However, did you notice that this particular wand reacted when you merely stepped into the shop?"

"Yes, sir, I did. Do all wands behave like that?"

"No, that is a rare phenomenon indeed, one I have witnessed only once before – I remember every wand I've ever sold, you know. It is a quality unique to vine wands, which are fairly rare and much more sensitive than other types of wands when it comes to detecting a likely match. Owners of vine wands also tend to strive for a greater purpose and surprise those around them. It will be very interesting indeed to see where _this_ wand - 10 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring core – takes _you_, Miss Granger." He nodded knowingly and wrapped her wand for her, bowing as the Grangers left the shop.

Hermione said very little on the return journey home, thinking about what Mr. Ollivander had said. So vine wand owners tended to strive for great things, then? The Wizarding world had already proven to be full of surprises, and she stared at her new wand, wondering exactly what sort of "great things" it could have in store for her.


	3. The Scarlet of September

**A/N: **_Hello everyone! Sorry for the insanely long hiatus with this story, I've been super busy. Hopefully this next chapter makes up for the wait. As always, reviews are read and appreciated. Enjoy! :)_

* * *

Hermione strode through King's Cross with her parents, so excited she could barely contain herself. Today was September first, and she was finally going to Hogwarts! She mentally reviewed her checklist, hoping she hadn't forgotten anything important, and thought about what Professor McGonagall had told her about getting onto the hidden magical platform where the Hogwarts Express awaited her. She stopped next to a perfectly ordinary-looking barrier between platforms nine and ten.

_This is it,_ she thought. _Just lean against it and try to look casual. You'll be fine. _And with that, she pressed herself against the barrier.

What she found on the other side of the barrier shocked Hermione speechless. Likewise, her parents had difficulty comprehending what they saw. There was indeed an entire platform hidden right in the middle of one of London's busiest stations, a platform packed with almost as many people as those on the Muggle side. A magnificent scarlet steam engine whistled in greeting, the words "Hogwarts Express" painted on its side in handsome lettering. A sign above her head read, "Hogwarts Express, Platform 9 ¾, 11:00." Hermione grinned. Somehow, the sight of the train, and the hundreds of witches and wizards gathered around it, reassured her most of all that the whole experience wasn't just a dream.

"Hermione, dear," came her father's voice from behind her. "Let's find you a seat." Hermione agreed, and the three Grangers set off down the platform. Many of the compartments were already packed with students, who were busy catching up with friends or leaning casually out the train's open windows to say goodbye to their families, but they found a space near the middle of the train and stowed Hermione's trunk in an overhead rack. The Hogwarts Express whistled again, and Hermione glanced at the clock over the platform's entrance. It was almost eleven.

"Well," she said, trying to sound braver than she felt, "I guess this is it." She hugged her parents, noticing a hint of tears in her mother's eyes.

"Mummy, don't cry," Hermione said gently. "I'll write you loads. I can only imagine how much I'll have to tell just after my first day!" Her mother smiled.

"I'm sure you will, dear. I'm just going to miss you, that's all. My baby is going to be so far away…but we're so, so proud of you and can't wait to hear all about Hogwarts. I have a feeling this is something you definitely can't miss."

"Show them what you can do, kiddo," her father added. "Make sure everyone at Hogwarts knows just how special Hermione Jean Granger really is."

"Well I don't want to be a show-off, Dad," Hermione chided, but secretly, she was pleased. Knowing she had her parents' support made her feel much better.

The whistle blew again as the clock struck eleven. Hermione hugged her parents one last time and quickly scrambled onto the train, where she promptly opened her window and waved.

"Goodbye!" she called. "I love you!" The Hogwarts Express picked up speed, and soon her parents were no more than faceless blurs on the distant speck that was Platform 9 ¾.

Once King's Cross was out of sight, Hermione heaved her trunk to the ground and opened the heavy lid. Right on top, cushioning her precious schoolbooks, were her brand-new robes. She eagerly selected a pair and pulled them on, more than ready to be part of the Wizarding world. They were soft, comfortable, and just felt _right._

As she finished changing, the compartment door slid open. "Hello. Mind if we join you?" a voice asked. The speaker was a girl probably Hermione's age, with a dark plait reaching halfway down her back. Another girl, almost identical in appearance, stood beside her.

"Not at all," Hermione responded, sliding her trunk over to make room. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Parvati Patil, and this is my twin sister, Padma. We're first years," the girl replied as she sat down.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm a first year as well. Isn't this so wonderful, finally going to Hogwarts? I'm ever so excited to start classes." Hermione was pleased to have someone her own age to talk to – it reminded her of Claire.

"Well, classes should be good, yes," Parvati said, "but I'm more excited to meet others like me. Having Wizarding friends will be great!"

Hermione paused, not sure how to respond. Friends? She wasn't sure she knew how to do "friends". All she knew was that she was on her way to one of the best Wizarding schools there was, and she was going to make the most of every opportunity.

The compartment door slid open yet again to admit a pretty brunette. "Hi!" the newcomer greeted them. "I'm Lavender Brown! We met on the platform, yeah?"

"Lavender, hi!" the twins said. "Good to see you again, come join us! This is…um…" Parvati gestured toward Hermione, clearly not wanting to admit that she'd forgotten her name.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said in the strongest voice she could manage, but inside, she felt hurt. If these girls wrote her off so quickly, could she ever be friends with them?

"Hi, Hermione," Lavender said as she sat down. She and Parvati immediately struck up a conversation about some cute boy they'd seen on the platform. Hermione knew then that this was never going to happen. They were talking about _boys?_ Did they not understand how _amazing_ the chance to go to Hogwarts was, how much of a stellar education they were being offered? If all they were going to do was talk about boys, Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to stick around.

"I'll be back," she said as she stood up and made her way to the door. "See you later." As she shut the compartment door, she thought she heard Lavender say, "A bit stuck-up, isn't she?" Padma started to respond, "No, she's…" but Hermione shut the door. She didn't want to hear any more.

* * *

Hermione made her way down the train's corridor. She wasn't sure which compartment was hers any more, but it didn't matter – she didn't want to sit with those girls right now, not after she'd heard what they thought of her. She'd ventured up front to meet the driver, who was very nice and seemed eager to tell her all about Hogwarts. They'd chatted for a few minutes, and then, not wanting to keep him any longer, Hermione had left. She met several prefects – Hermione stood up a little taller as she introduced herself – and bought lunch from a kindly witch who was pushing a food cart loaded with all sorts of delicious-looking things. Hermione tried not to eat too much of it – after all, most of it was sweets, and she was sure her dentist parents wouldn't approve – but the treats she did try were absolutely delicious. After she finished eating, she continued her walk, and she was so preoccupied that she ran right into someone – or maybe that someone ran right into her, she wasn't sure.

"Goodness me, I'm terribly sorry!" Hermione said, helping the boy to his feet.

"It's OK," the boy replied. He had a rather round face and looked like he'd been crying.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"I've lost my toad," he said. "My great uncle gave him to me, and now I can't find him anywhere!" He sniffed.

_Oh, dear,_ Hermione thought. _Just what I need, someone crying over a toad._ But she decided to try to be nice. "I'll help you look, if you like. I'm Hermione Granger, what's your name?"

"Neville Longbottom."

"Pleased to meet you, Neville." Seeing the boy's shocked expression, she added, "What is it?"

"It's just…nobody's ever treated me so kindly before. Thank you." He looked embarrassed.

"Oh…well, what are friends for?" Hermione smiled. Maybe she _could_ get used to this "friend" thing, even if it was with a toad-losing boy. "Let's go find your toad."

They began knocking on different compartment doors, asking the occupants if they'd seen the toad, whom Neville said was called Trevor. Nobody responded in the affirmative, but they didn't give up, even when some older Slytherins – Hermione recognized the serpent symbol of the house with the bad reputation – looked like they might jinx them if they came any closer. Hermione thought they wouldn't try – doing magic before the start of term was against the rules, of course – but she didn't push her luck. Finally, she slid back the door to the last compartment.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." She knew instantly that she sounded grumpy, but she had been hunting for this toad for a while.

"Um…no?" The two boys in front of her looked confused. The one on the left had dark hair and wore glasses, and the redhead on the right held a rat and…_a wand._ He looked like he was about to perform a spell, which distracted Hermione and had her momentarily forget the toad.

"Oh, are you doing magic then?" she asked eagerly. "Let's see!" The redhead looked almost scared, but he cleared his throat and pointed his wand – which, Hermione noticed, was taped in places – towards the rat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!" he said.

Nothing happened.

"Rubbish," the boy said. "Fred gave me that spell, bet he knew it was a dud."

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Hermione asked. When he didn't respond, she continued, "Well, it's not a very good one, is it? Of course, I've only tried a few simple ones myself, but they've all worked for me. I was so surprised when I got my letter, nobody in my family's magic at all, but I was ever so pleased, of course. I've heard Hogwarts is the very best school of magic there is, I'm so eager to get started. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I only hope it'll be enough…I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you? Oh, and this is Neville, Neville Longbottom." She was so eager that her words tumbled out in a rush.

"Hi," Neville said. "I can't stay, actually, I'm going to keep looking for Trevor…but thanks for the help, Hermione." He left the compartment, looking dejected.

"Um…I'm Ron Weasley," the redhead muttered.

"Harry Potter," said the other boy.

"You're _Harry Potter?_" Hermione asked, amazed to be sitting in the presence of someone so famous. "But I've read all about you! Your story's so fascinating! I picked up a few extra books, for background reading, you know, and your name was mentioned in almost all of them! I'm ever so pleased to meet you!"

"Was I really?" Harry asked, looking almost scared.

"Why, of course! Goodness, if it were me, I would've read all I can about it…but no matter. Which house do you think you'll be in? I've been asking around and Gryffindor seems by far the best, I heard Dumbledore himself was in it, although I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad either." Before either of them could respond, she added, "You two should change, I was up front talking to the conductor earlier and he said we'd be there soon. Pleasure to meet you, Harry. Ron, you've got some dirt on your nose, I expect you'll want to get rid of it before we get there. See you at school!"

* * *

The scarlet train slowly rolled to a stop next to a small platform on the outskirts of the village of Hogsmeade. Hermione knew that older students were allowed to visit the village on weekends, and she couldn't wait – it was supposedly the oldest all-wizarding community in Britain. She shivered with delight as she thought of all the wonderful things waiting for her. As she stepped onto the platform, she saw a lantern bobbing over the sea of students and heard a voice call, "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" As the lantern came closer, she saw that the lantern belonged to a veritable giant of a man, with large masses of black hair and beard and an overcoat that could have served as a tent. She was frightened, but then she looked into his face and saw that his eyes were kind. Whoever this was, he was friendly.

"Firs' years, follow me!" Hermione and several dozen others followed the giant down a rocky path towards an enormous black lake, which glittered in the moonlight. At the edge of the lake sat a fleet of small rowboats. The giant turned to face them.

"I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Welcome! No more than four to a boat. By the way, anyone lose a toad?"

"Trevor!" Neville cried, and Hermione was glad for her friend. She made her way over to him and said, "Let's find a boat together?" He nodded, and they climbed into the nearest boat, which was already occupied by Harry and Ron.

"Everybody set? Righ' then!" Hagrid gave his boat, which he filled all by himself, a little tap, and the fleet set off across the lake.

As they sailed, the clouds parted to reveal the most breathtaking structure Hermione had ever seen. An enormous castle rose up in front of them, its many towers and turrets glittering with light from within. The building was unspeakably old, yet it radiated power so strong that Hermione trembled. _Hogwarts_…_She was really here._

They docked and made their way up to an impossibly large set of oak front doors. Hagrid grasped the iron knocker and knocked, the deep boom resonating all around them. Almost immediately, the door opened, and the shadow of someone Hermione couldn't see threw itself onto the sloping lawn. Then she heard Professor McGongall's voice.

"Ah, the first years. Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

* * *

**A/N:**_ I wanted to try showing some different sides of Hermione - her thirst for knowledge, her hidden desire to make friends, and her insecurities. Rowling created such a fantastic character in Hermione, but since the stories focus mainly on Harry, there are so many sides of her we don't really see. I especially enjoyed writing about her meeting Neville, as it's always come across in the books that their relationship is a good one. Hope you liked it! :)_


End file.
